


Going Nowhere

by Azar



Category: NCIS
Genre: Chanukah, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-16
Updated: 2011-07-16
Packaged: 2017-10-21 10:57:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/224429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azar/pseuds/Azar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This wasn't exactly how Ziva had planned on spending the second night of Chanukah.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Going Nowhere

**Author's Note:**

  * For [voleuse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/gifts).



> Written for voleuse for ncis_tinsel a couple of years ago.

“Ducky?” Ziva poked her head through the door of Autopsy, frowning when she didn’t see anyone. “Ducky? Palmer?”

“Ah, there you are.” Doctor Mallard’s voice came unexpectedly from behind her.

Ziva jumped, clamping down on the instinct to reach for her gun. She was going soft—there was a time when no one would have been able to sneak up on her, even if they were deliberately trying. She forced a smile in response to Ducky’s. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes, I did. I have something for you.” He stepped past her and stopped, holding the door open.

Intrigued and more than a little dubious, Ziva stepped into Autopsy, then followed Ducky across the room to his desk, where he bent down to retrieve something from underneath it. When he straightened again, she stared in awed dismay at an enormous gift basket: wine, cheese, crackers, and assorted other foods all wrapped up in cellophane.

“Happy Chanukah, my dear,” Ducky said cheerfully.

“I...don’t know what to say.”

He just smiled again fondly. “You needn’t say anything. I believe the contents of the basket are all kosher, however my memory may be a bit rusty--”

Ziva laughed. “Ducky, your mind is like a steel prison. Gold is more likely to rust.”

“That’s ‘steel trap,’ my dear,” he corrected, but there was a conspiratorial twinkle in his eye that made her uncomfortable, as if he knew something she didn’t want anyone to know.

Murmuring her thanks, Ziva hefted the gigantic basket and, peering around it, picked her way carefully back out of Autopsy. Reaching the elevator, she balanced the gift on one knee and hit the call button, then stood back to wait with a sigh.

She had no idea what to do with this thing, but didn’t have the heart to tell him so. Well, he had been right about at least one item—the wine bottle had the words “Kosher for Passover” on it. Never mind that it wouldn't be Passover for another four months or so.

The elevator dinged, the doors slid open and Ziva stepped on, setting the basket down beside her just in case. In case of what, she wasn’t sure, but if there was one thing growing up in Israel and then going into Mossad had taught her, it was to always be prepared for anything.

After only one floor, the elevator stopped again, and the doors opened to reveal Abby and McGee. “Ziva?” the latter asked, surprised.

She just pointed down to the basket at her feet, and he nodded in comprehension. “Ah, yes. We got ours Christmas Eve.”

“Yes, well, I suppose the second day of Chanukah is better than never....” she rejoined in a rueful voice that strongly implied she wasn’t so sure.

“Yes, Happy Chanukah, by the way.”

 _“Toda.”_

Throughout this conversation, and boarding the elevator, Abby had maintained a suspicious silence. Ziva sighed internally, wondering if she was ever going to win the other woman’s friendship. “So, Abby, how was your Christmas?”

“I celebrate the Winter Solstice,” was the short reply.

Ziva grimaced. “My mistake. I thought everyone in this country celebrated Christmas. It’s rather...overwhelming.”

McGee frowned. “You know, I hadn’t really thought of that before, but I suppose it would be. What with all the stores decorated and playing Christmas music and all.”

“Precisely. Whereas in Jerusalem, if one wanted to avoid it, all one had to do was avoid the Christian Quarter. And the Armenian Quarter,” Ziva agreed. After a pause, she admitted, “Not that I ever spent much time in those anyway.”

He nodded. “So what is December like in Israel? All decked out for Chanukah instead?”

Ziva chuckled. “Believe it or not, Chanukah is a fairly minor holiday, particularly compared to Holy Week.”

McGee looked confused. “The week before Easter?”

She couldn’t help it; she made a face. “No, the week between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. The New Year and the Day of Atonement,” she explained at his blank look.

“Oh. I guess I really don’t know much about Judaism. Or Israel,” McGee admitted.

“I’m starting to notice that,” she muttered under her breath.

“So, what--” he began, but was interrupted when the elevator cab suddenly lurched to a stop and all the lights died with a sharp whine.

Ziva’s instincts snapped into overdrive. Every muscle in her body tensed as one hand sought the security of her weapon. “Get down!” she hollered.

“What? Why?” Abby asked, bewildered.

“McGee, I need you to give me a boost--”

She could hear him fumbling in the darkness. “Huh?”

“I’m going to climb up into the shaft, see if I can get us out of here.”

“Dude, why?” Abby repeated. “If the power doesn’t come back on in a minute, they’ll send someone to get us out of here.”

Ziva frowned. “In my country, if the power goes out it’s quite possibly because a bomb has exploded somewhere nearby.”

“Yeah, well, we’re not in your country anymore.”

“Neither was the World Trade Center,” she snapped back, nerves still strung tight as a violin.

“Ah, Ziva, was that really necessary?” McGee pointed out quietly, and Ziva felt a sudden stab of remorse.

She’d forgotten what a raw wound that still was for Americans, since she’d never really understood the sense of security they clung to, or that even some of her countrymen could claim. For the family of the director of Mossad, security was a weapon or an armed IDF soldier at your back, and even that sometimes wasn’t enough. True, not even Hamas had ever used a plane as a bomb, but considering how tight security tended to be on El Al, she suspected it was simply easier to achieve their objectives through other means.

“You’re right,” she admitted. “That was insensitive, and I apologize.”

“Look,” he continued. “Abby’s right, it’s probably just a power outage.”

Ziva forcibly uncoiled herself one muscle at a time. “So what do people in your country do when they’re trapped in an elevator without power?”

“There’s always the phone,” Abby suggested.

Right. The emergency call box. She fumbled for it, then, “Does anyone have a lighter or a torch or something?”

“You afraid of the dark?” Abby taunted.

“No, I just thought it might be easier to use the phone if we could see it.”

“Oh, yeah...” She heard McGee say, more fumbling, then suddenly a tiny beam of light cut through the blackness. Apparently he had a penlight on his keyring. He picked up the phone, and while he explained their situation to whoever was on the other end of the line, Ziva eased herself carefully into a sitting position beside Abby, whose face was even paler than usual in the meager light.

“Are you afraid of the dark?” Ziva carefully echoed the other girl’s question, her tone quiet and sincere.

“No.” Abby shook her head. “It’s just...my parents are both deaf. I was thinking...if this ever happened to them, they would have no way to call for help. No one would even know they were there, and they would have no way of knowing if anyone was trying to get them out.”

Ziva shivered. “When I was a little girl...a bomb went off at my mother’s work, and she was buried in the rubble. For two days, we didn’t know if she was alive while they searched for her, and for the others. On the third day...they were about to give up when they heard a voice, very faint, repeating the _Sh’ma_ over and over again.” She looked up and shivered. “So I guess I’m not particularly fond of small, dark spaces either.”

Abby offered her a weak smile and Ziva smiled in return, probably the first truly genuine ones they’d ever exchanged.

McGee hung up the phone. “Okay, apparently the whole block is out. They’re working on getting the power back, but it’s going to take some time.”

Abby sighed. “I knew I should’ve had that burrito before I left.”

“Yeah, I’m kind of hungry too,” McGee admitted.

 _Food_ \--Ziva’s eyes widened. That basket might be good for something after all. She reached for it and shook the cellophane. “Will this help?”

“It certainly can’t hurt,” Abby said and McGee made a sound of agreement as he settled himself onto the floor as well.

Ziva untied the bow and opened the wrapping. “Let’s see...wine, cheese, halvah...what, no falafel?” she muttered dryly.

“What’s halvah?” McGee asked.

“Difficult to explain,” Ziva responded, opening the package and breaking off a chunk. “Here.” She distributed pieces to both of them, then with some help from her pocket knife, uncorked the wine.

“Not bad,” he stated around a mouthful. “My basket was mostly bread, cheese and sausage.”

“Yes, well, sausage isn’t exactly kosher, now is it?”

“No, I guess not.”

“Ooh, bagels!” Abby revealed with a grin after rummaging around in the basket a bit. “Wow, Ducky really went all out with the Jewish stereotypes. Is there cream cheese? And lox?”

“Do we have a knife to spread the cream cheese if there is?” McGee asked.

Ziva reached down, pulled out her boot knife and handed it to him. At the stunned look on his face, she shrugged. “It’s not exactly designed for eating with, but...”

“Right…”

“Good enough,” Abby declared. She snatched the knife out of Ziva’s hand and proceeded to prepare herself a bagel.

“Wine?” Ziva asked, offering the bottle to McGee.

He accepted and took a swig. “Thanks.”

“So,” she sighed. “What do we do to pass the time? Besides eat, of course.”

“We could play truth or dare,” Abby suggested.

“Truth or dare?”

“It’s a game,” McGee explained. “Someone asks you to choose ‘truth' or 'dare,’ and depending on which you pick, you either have to answer a question truthfully or perform a stunt of that person’s choosing.”

Ziva frowned. “Sounds dangerous.”

“Not if you trust the people you’re playing with,” Abby protested.

Ziva pinned her with a look. “I rest my case.” The goth girl had the grace to look a little sheepish.

“Besides, what kind of dare could we possibly do stuck in an elevator anyway?” McGee asked.

“Oh, I’m sure I could think of something,” Abby replied with a wicked grin. “I’ll go first. Ziva: truth or dare?”

Ziva frowned, choosing what seemed like the less risky answer. “Truth.”

The other girl’s eyes lit up, and suddenly it didn’t seem like such a good idea after all. “Okay. Here’s something I’ve been wanting to know for a while: you’re a spy, right? And part of spy training is how to blend in convincingly with other cultures, isn’t it? So do you really not know all those expressions you keep messing up, or is it all an act?”

Ziva swore silently in Hebrew.

“Well?”

“It’s an act,” she admitted with a sigh.

“What?” McGee looked startled.

“One of the things my father taught me when I was very young was always to keep something in reserve,” she admitted. “Never become predictable, only appear to be so.”

“So you’re saying that was all...”

“To keep you on your toes.”

“Make us underestimate you.”

“Yes.” She nodded. “And if you ever breathe a word of this to Tony or Gibbs, I will break every bone in your body. One at a time.”

She could do it, too, and from the looks on their faces, they knew it.

Abby grinned then, and this time Ziva was startled to feel included in the mischief in her eyes. “Oh, I wouldn’t say anything to Tony anyway. It’d spoil the fun.”

Now that was something they could agree on. Ziva returned the smile. “Okay, I think I passed that one—what now?”

As if to answer her question, the elevator suddenly roared to life, and the three of them blinked in the sudden, bright light. A second later it began to move, and the three of them scrambled to their feet, picking up the remains of their impromptu picnic and shoving them back into the basket.

“I have an idea—I think after all this, we deserve a little celebration,” Ziva suggested. “Why don’t you two come home with me? We can light the second candle, and I can teach you a little about Judaism.”

She waggled an eyebrow at McGee, who exchanged glances with Abby before turning back to her with a smile. “That would be nice, Ziva. Thank you.”

The door opened then to reveal a smirking Tony. “Well, there you guys are. Have fun?”

Ziva glanced at her two companions: McGee, who had lost his suitcoat, tie, and top button sometime during their imprisonment, and Abby, whose hair was mussed from sitting against the elevator wall. An evil idea crept into her head and she turned a languid smile on Tony. “I think so, didn’t we boys and girls?”

Abby immediately picked up on the tone of her voice, and snaked an arm around her waist, grinning. “Lots of fun.”

“I’d venture to say it was probably the most fun I’ve ever had in an elevator,” McGee contributed with his usual clueless honesty, playing flawlessly into Ziva’s ruse.

Tony’s mouth dropped open. Ziva smiled and shoved the gift basket into his astonished hands before strolling out of the elevator. “Now which way are the stairs?”

When he pointed, dumbfounded, she linked arms with both Abby and McGee and stated in a low voice—but still loud enough for Tony to hear—“Let’s go home, shall we?”

When the door closed behind them, Tony was still staring.

**Author's Note:**

> Glossary (just in case anyone doesn't know):
> 
> El Al - Israeli national airline  
> IDF - Israeli Defense Force  
> Sh’ma - a traditional Hebrew prayer that begins, _Sh’ma Israel, Adonai Eloheynu, Adonai Echad._ (Hear O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one..)


End file.
